


bitter pleasure

by apricotaeris



Series: chief of the damned [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricotaeris/pseuds/apricotaeris
Summary: Another streetlight pops and goes out. Sam’s blood boils.
Series: chief of the damned [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719958
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	bitter pleasure

The small town streets around him are silent and dark in the night, save for the yellow light of the street lamps that flicker and dim as he passes each one.

Sam is full of _rage_.

Heaven had sent his brother an _angelic companion_ , a Seraph named Castiel, and Sam is _beyond_ angry. Just who’s running Heaven, and _why_ do they think they have some sort of claim over _Sam’s_ brother?

Another streetlight pops and goes out. Sam’s blood boils.

He’s not far now, but he’d been hoping that he would calm down a little bit before he reached the motel at the edge of town, run down and dirty, but always so _familiar_.

He doesn’t feel any calmer, though. In fact, Sam’s pretty sure his blood has actually reached boiling.

The angel, he’s sure, knows exactly what Sam is, and where he’s been, so it comes as a shock when Dean is surprised to see him. Had the angel not told him?

“Sammy?”

_Sammy._

His brother isn’t just surprised, no, he looks _heartbroken_ , like a man who’s seeing a loved one back from the dead, and-

Yeah, Sam supposes, Dean _would_ see it that way. After all, for his brother, it’s been more than a year since Sam’s ‘demise’.

For Sam, it’s been more than a century, but who’s counting?

Sam slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks and glances around the room. “Where’s _Castiel_? He should be here, right? He was assigned to you.”

From his spot at the beaten wooden table, Dean blinks. “Cas? How do you know about--”

“No matter, he’ll show. So, Dean, how does it feel to be Heaven’s special boy?” He grins, canines longer than they were in life. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were bloody, but Sam rarely needs to look at his reflection. He rarely needs to even dress himself. His servants are good for most things. “I suppose the dick that’s running things up there is still trying to kickstart the Apocalypse?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, Dean. Heaven wants to free Lucifer from the cage so he can wear me to the prom and fight to the death with his big brother, who wants to wear _you_ to the prom. Of course, if he can’t get you, he’ll just go after our other brother.”

Sam hears the telltale flutter of wings before he can smell the ozone of Castiel’s grace, but he doesn’t turn to look at the Seraph yet.

“Cas,” Dean rumbles. “What’s going on?”

_And there you have it. He’s already turning to the Angel for guidance. Pathetic._

“This is your brother,” the angel says with all of the seriousness as if he was telling Dean that the Earth is round.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Castiel, you haven’t told him?” He smiles again, feral and delighted, bitter and pleased. “Dean~, I’m the King of Hell.”


End file.
